They listened to the account she gave them of little Hubert’s ‘rescue,’ with mingled astonishment and amusement, at a loss, when all was told, to decide whether Fred had been very brave or very foolish—inclined rather to agree with the child himself, that no “rescue” had been needed, yet admiring the courage which had accomplished it, and the modesty which deprecated blame rather than claimed admiration for what she had done.
“I daresay Hubert thinks himself a prisoner now, and that he needs to be rescued much more than he did before,” said she doubtfully.
“But, indeed, if you knew how anxious and unhappy we had sometimes been about some things, you would not call us altogether foolish,” said Selina.
“And it came so suddenly upon us. First we heard that Tessie had been to the convent, and then Dixen told us he had seen Charlie, and then I went away.”
“But who has taken the ordering of all these matters?” said Col. Bentham. “Where is the responsibility? Mr St. Cyr must have known the wishes of your father and mother with regard to these children.”
“It was not Mr St. Cyr,” said Frederica eagerly. “At least, I don’t think it was he. That was worst of all when we thought that he had turned against mama’s wishes, because he had always been so kind to us before. But last night I went to see him.”
“What! more adventures!” said Edgar. “You went to beard another lion in his den?”
“Oh! I have been there before. But he has been very ill this winter, and they would not let us in. But last night I did not ask leave. I ran upstairs and into the room where he was sitting.”
“And was he glad to see you?” asked Selina eagerly, “and did you tell him about Tessie and the boys?”
“No, Lena. He looked so changed and weak, I could not ask him. Was I very foolish? But then I am quite sure he knew nothing about them. And, Lena, he did not know about mama, though it was so long ago—Mr Jerome had not told him.”